


sleep right through

by adeleblaircassiedanser



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Best Friends, Fluff, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-17 14:39:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/868700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adeleblaircassiedanser/pseuds/adeleblaircassiedanser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry calls Nick. That's it. That's the fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sleep right through

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have an excuse. This is not 100% canon compliant, but it takes place on Sunday night/Monday morning. This drought is killing me. Title from "When I Get Up" by Tegan and Sara. Obviously, this is not real and I don't own Nick or Harry.

_Bzzzzz._

  
Nick studiously refuses to open his eyes, hoping the insistent vibrating noise will take the hint and fuck off. It's not the shrill beep of his alarm, which means it is far too fucking early, and then some, to be woken up before the first of five shows the week after Glastonbury. Nick is exhausted, and sunburnt, and _sleeping_ , thanks ever so.

_Bzzzzz._

  
Nick sighs- well, maybe growls is a better word- and turns toward where his phone lies flashing on the duvet. The screen looks suspiciously  
like it might read _hazza :) .x._  But that is impossible, and besides that Nick is potentially still asleep, and this is some sort of nightmare. 

_Bzzzz._

It seems the noise isn't planning on going away, so Nick swipes his finger across the screen and lays the phone to balance on the side of  
his head, closing his eyes again.

"Nick?"

" _Blurgh?_ " Nick answers politely, and then clears his throat. These dulcet tones are going to be a treat for the public this morning. "Harry? I'm sleeping."

"Okay," Harry says, sounding very small. "Sorry, I shouldn't have called."

Daytime Nick has a feeling that silence is not the proper response when someone is sounding so pathetic, especially someone who is ostensibly one's best friend. Sleeping Nick isn't happy about it, but he sits up anyway, rubbing his face and squinting at the clock.

For fuck's sake, it's half two. 

"No, it's alright, popstar. I was getting up soon anyway. Are you okay?"

Nick hears a quiet, funny breathing sound from the other end.

"Harry? What's wrong, love, has something happened? Is it late or early for you?" Nick knows Harry well enough to keep blathering on until Harry's ready to interrupt him.

"It's-" Harry takes a deep, rattling breath. "It's, basically, it's only half past nine here. And I thought- maybe you might already be up? 'Cause of Glasto and everything? I'm really sorry, I just needed to talk to someone familiar and Mum's definitely asleep, and anyone else would probably think it's stupid. Because it is stupid."

"What's stupid?" Nick asks, flipping on the bathroom light and grimacing at the half burnt-red, half sickly-green creature in  
the mirror. He wets his toothbrush and flips the light back off.

"I feel really shit about it, really I do, because- like, basically- I chose this, you know? and there were other kids who  
were better than me, who deserved it more, maybe, but I'm the one here, so... I shouldn't be complaining, basically."

It's always been hard to follow the convoluted path of Harry's thoughts, especially when he's not there to give visual cues what  
he means. Those two sentences alone had taken about half an hour to get through, and Nick is still fighting sleep.

"Harry, love, what the fuck do you mean? Are you complaining that you're too fit and your voice is too good? Because if  
that's it, I'm hanging up."

Harry laughs a little into the phone, so that's an improvement at least.

"No, shut up. I mean, basically, I'm just really grateful, yeah? Like, these kids pay so much money and they're so  
dedicated and we would be nowhere without them, and all they want is to see us. It's mental. We're so lucky, you know?"

"But," Nick leads.

"But- I mean, all I want is for everyone to be happy. All i want is for everyone to have a good time. But like- you  
remember what happened in Paris that one time?"

"If you're referring to the day you were almost trampled to death by _le french teenagers_ , yes, Harry. I remember."

"Like, basically, it keeps happening? And I dunno what to do? Like, it's not safe for them either, and I don't want anyone  
to get hurt. And Paul and them are saying I maybe need to start going in to the hotels through, like, staff entrances and  
that? But, like, it doesn't seem fair, because a lot of them are, like, really lovely, and it doesn't seem fair when they wait and  
wait just to see _me_ and then I'm too good to spend five minutes getting a picture with them? But it's just- when they  
keep pulling me and there's so many of them and only two security and me, it's a bit scary?"

"I should think so, Harold, yes. Listen, love. You don't owe anyone anything. No one at all. Not me, not the lads, not  
Paul, and certainly not the fans. The fans pay to see you play a show every night. And you do, you put on an amazing show,  
every single night, and that's why they love you, yeah? All the rest's just icing. And if this is doing your head in, you  
won't be able to do the important bit, which is just being your incredibly talented self on stage."

"You think I'm incredible?" Harry says in the teasing tone which means he's feeling a little better, at least.

"Don't let it go to your head, brat. you were practically crying, I had to say something. Anyway, I think the fans who  
actually care about you won't mind your going in the side door a few times instead of being mobbed to death. The rest  
probably just want a picture of themselves with Actual Harry Styles as a way of getting more Instagram followers. They can  
get fucked."

"Nick, most of them are ten," Harry says, laughing despite himself.

"You know what I mean, you hateful child. Are you feeling alright now?"

"If I say yes, are you going to hang up?" Nick climbs back into bed, looking forlornly at the clock.

"Well, as I do have a real job, unlike some people..." Nick trails off.

"Heyyy."

"I'll have you know I've forgone a much needed post-Glastonbury recovery sleep to chat to you, so stop moaning. Anyway, do you not want me to go? I've got an hour and a half before I was meant to be awake."

Harry laughs. "How was Glasto? You were looking quite laddy in the photos."

Nick preens. "I was, wasn't I? It was well fun, even if I did have to leave early like an old person yesterday to make it back in time. Not exactly a yacht off the coast of Miami, but I suppose we can't all be you."

"Oh, shut up. Anyway, tell Finchy I'm sorry about his birthday, and Niall says he'll come out with all of us sometime."

"When are you in London next? 2016? I'll pencil you in."

"I miss you too, Grimmy. Cheers for listening."

"Anytime, popstar. It's nice to know I've not been totally forgotten."

"Never," Harry replies, sounding far too sincere. "Anyway, shouldn't you go back to sleep?"

"Yes, everyone should be asleep right now, and that includes you, Harold. Stop worrying so much."

"Alright, alright," Harry says, in a voice which suggests he might actually comply. "Love you."

"Goodbye, popstar."


End file.
